


Fargo

by dalula



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Dry Humping, Fluff and Smut, Humanstuck, M/M, Pre-Accident Mituna Captor, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalula/pseuds/dalula
Summary: “Great,” you grin. “So, when do you get off?”"About once a day at roughly seven twenty-two PM,” Mituna turns his head and shoots you a filthy smirk. “I leave work around half five if you want to give me a hand.”





	Fargo

You lean against the coffee shop’s sticky counter in a smooth move you’ve practised in front of the mirror many times. “The usual for me, cutie.” 

The floppy-haired blonde, Mituna, his name tag reads, looks up blankly from behind the counter. “And what’s that?” 

You frown, insulted. “Pumpkin and vanilla hot chocolate. I come here every day; I was here, like, an hour ago.” 

The barista gives a sheepish smile, all teeth and braces. “Sorry, dude. We get a lot of customers.” 

It’s petty, you know it, but that stings. You come here every day for a peek at the hot barista’s ass and they can’t even remember your order? Ridiculous. After you've spent so much of your dad's hard, totally not illegally earned cash, you'd expect some better service.

“And here I was thinkin’ we had a sweet thing goin’ on, chief.” You try and fail, to not sound like a complete child. 

Mituna laughs, an awful, nasally noise which makes only makes you that much more attracted to him. God, you’re desperate. 

“Soz, bro! I’ll keep an eye out for you now, though, if it’ll make you feel better,” he snorts. He turns to start preparing the hot chocolate, giving you an eyeful of what you’re really here for.

“Great,” you grin. “So, when do you get off?” 

"About once a day at roughly seven twenty-two PM,” Mituna turns his head and shoots you a filthy smirk. “I leave work around half five if you want to give me a hand.” 

You can’t help the juvenile blush that rises to your cheeks. So much for the smooth act. 

“Uh, yeah!” you stammer. “That'd be neat. I’ll just... sit here.” 

You clumsily climb onto the barstool at the counter, grateful that Mituna has turned back around and can’t watch you struggle to do basic tasks, like sitting. Fuck, you’re way too much of a virgin for this. It’s an awkward silence, at least on your end, as you wait for your order. You try to lean coolly on your hand but only succeed in knocking over a napkin dispenser. Distracting yourself from both overthinking yourself to death and leering over the counter like a grade-A creep seems like an impossible task.

“Do you, um, like your job?” 

Mituna looks back at him and shrugs. “Not really, I deal with assholes all day and only get a five per cent discount on coffee. But I do get to see the occasional hot greaser, so it has its perks.” 

You’re almost too distracted by watching Mituna’s mouth as he lisps through the word ‘assholes’ to catch the compliment thrown your way. Almost. 

“Hot, huh?” You smirk. 

Mituna snorts as he turns back to face you, handing over the hot chocolate. “You look like a kid on Christmas. What, as if you don’t know how fucking good looking you are?” 

You didn’t but you’re not going to admit that to the smoking-hot guy who’s offering to have sex with you. 

“Obviously I know,” you scoff. “I ain’t _blind_.” 

Mituna gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe it for a second. 

“You have a car?” He asks, leaning on the counter. He’s much closer now, you can see the red and blue wires covering his fucked up teeth, the way his hair curls around his ear, the twin dimples as he smiles. 

“Yeah!” You say. “It’s just down the road. A real beauty, a classic nineteen-“ 

“I don’t know shit about cars,” Mituna interrupts. “And I really don’t care. But if it has enough room in the back seat to suck you off, I’m so fucking down to listen to you talk about them all night long.” 

A wheeze is forced out of you. “Groovy.” You nod and resist the urge to fist bump the air. 

Mituna snorts and starts to walk away, calling behind him. “I’m gonna close up!” 

It's not even five yet but you're not going to remind him, he can get fired if he really wants.

You wait until he’s disappeared into the kitchen before chugging your hot chocolate like a newly pledged frat boy. It burns your tongue and tastes like shit but you can’t focus on anything that isn’t sex – car – Mituna. 

You’re going to get _laid_. 

“Ready to go?” He comes back out a minute later wrapped up in a hideous yellow jacket and matching beanie. 

You pause for a moment, eyes straining from the piss coloured clothes he’s wearing, trying to dig up any sense of disgust. You fail. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

He leads you out of the shop and pauses to lock the doors. You take the opportunity to admire him. Flakes of snow are collecting on his head and swirling around the two of you. The blonde mop of hair peeks out from under his hat, falling into his eyes. His tongue is sticking out in concentration as his shaky hands fail to get the key in the lock. 

“Nervous?” 

Mituna lets out a laugh that sounds like a bark. “No, ADHD.” 

You don’t know what to say to that. “Oh.” 

“I’m hyperactive, not disabled. No need for pity, dude.” 

“Uh, sorry.” Shit, you’re blushing again. "It wasn't pity. I don't give a shit if you're disabled, you're still smokin' hot."

Mituna raises an eyebrow. "Wow. Real delicately put, asshole."

"That came out wrong."

He rolls his eyes fondly and shoves you with his shoulder. “It’s whatevs. Show me to this car of yours already.” 

You ignore the urge to remind him you were waiting for _him_, not the other way around. 

It’s a slow walk as you crunch your way through the snow and ice, trying desperately not to slip and fall like an idiot, the streetlights guiding your way. Your leather jacket doesn't do much in terms of keeping you warm but after hours of watching yourself in the mirror with it on, you've decided that freezing your ass off is worth it if you look this good. Mituna makes conversation which you're too giddy to take in but he doesn't seem to mind. You have the embarrassing and inexplicable desire to take his hand, as it brushes against yours every so often, which you also ignore.

“So, what’s your name?”

Shit, you totally forgot to tell him your name.

“Cronus.”

“Like the god? Wicked. I’m Mit-”

“Mituna. I know.” He frowns and you realise how that makes you sound like some kind of stalker. “I saw your name tag.”

“Oh, duh.” He laughs, condensation rushing from his mouth in a puff of smoke.

There’s an excited anxiousness building in the pit of your stomach, by the time you reach the car you think you might throw up. Or die. Or both.

“This is it,” your voice comes out weak and shaky. You hate yourself for freaking out when you've finally managed to find someone willing to get in your pants.

For all his blunt rudeness, he takes note of it. He watches you closely, concern tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine. Seriously, man,” he says quietly. “I know I can be kinda… full-on. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

The relief makes you sag against your car.

“It ain’t that, chief,” you swallow down a lump in your throat. “I just- I’ve never done anythin’ like this.”

His mouth makes a cute O shape. “I’d be your first player?”

“What?”

“Like in video games? Never mind,” he steps closer to you. “We can do as much or as little as you’re into, dude. We wouldn’t even have to get anything out.”

You tilt your head, frowning. “What would we do, then?”

He smiles gently, ruined by the mischievous glint in his eyes, and presses his body against yours.

“Well, I could do this,” he hovers his mouth over yours. Searching your eyes for confirmation, he leans in.

His lips are slightly chapped from the cold but feel way better than anything you imagined while jerking off. You feel his breath against your chilled cheeks as he breathes out, a soft, intimate sensation.

There’s a moment of panic when you realise you know nothing about kissing and stand there paralysed as your experienced, gorgeous crush liplocks with someone who is doing an amazing impression of a dead fish. He must feel you tense up because he slides his arms around you, slipping his cold hands up under your coat and shirt to tease the skin of your back. The chill jolts you into action and forces you to push against him harder to escape his fingers. You slip your tongue into his mouth, probably a little too soon, and remember miserably how fried your taste buds are from the hot chocolate.

A moan is coaxed out of you when he slides a leg between yours, it's solid and rests perfectly against you. You try not to rut pathetically into it but fail spectacularly, whining into Mituna’s mouth as he begins to grind in tandem. Feeling brave, your hands move to his hips, instead of gripping for purchase on your car, and you tug him closer. Your skin is buzzing, electrified with the heady feeling of being wanted.

He breaks away to pant heavily against your neck, pressing kisses and devious nips to the delicate skin. Hiding a groan in the fabric of his hat, you remember that you’re outside where anyone could see you. You’re literally outside of someone’s house. The curtains are drawn, thankfully, but a part of you is flushed by the idea of getting caught. It emboldens you enough to slip your hands down to his ass and squeeze, something he apparently enjoys if his gasp if anything to go by.

You’re gracelessly rutting against each other by the time you feel your climax coming, shivering in desperation. You don’t know how long you’ve been going but you’re pretty certain it hasn’t been long and that you’re proving every virgin stereotype right by coming way before he does but you couldn’t stop moving against him if you tried. There will be bruises on his skin by tomorrow from the way your hands pulling him closer, not that he’s complaining. You hold him tight against you as your hips stutter while you come.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Mind if I keep going? I’m almost there.”

You nod, suddenly tired. 

With his hurried movements, it doesn’t take him long to follow your lead. You’re in a fuzzy state of blissed-out, content to watch him pant heavily and ride out the rest of his orgasm, even while your dick twitches with oversensitivity.

“I don’t even like hot chocolate,” you admit. 

He looks up at you, barely recovered. “What?”

“I only come in to see you.”

“That’s so lame,” he says, but he’s lit up like the sun. Ecstatic. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I ain’t exactly Casanova.”

“Good. Casanova was a dick,” he pulls out a packet of tissues from his coat pocket. “You’re still kind of an asshole but I think I can deal with you long enough to let you take me on a date.”

You accept the tissues he hands you passively, mind reeling from what he’s just said. You’re not only slightly less of a virgin than you were ten minutes ago but also set to go on your first date ever. Hell fucking yes.

It’s awkward to try and clean up without taking your pants off but you’ve had enough of exhibitionism for one day, you’ll save the public exposure for another time. Eventually, you give up and accept you’re going to have to drive home with cold, sticky spunk covering your junk.

“Do you need a ride home?” You ask him.

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Can I have your phone? I’ll put my number in.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You scramble to pull it out of your back pocket, unlock it and hand it to him.

“Text me whenever,” he presses a quick kiss to your mouth while he hands you back your phone. “See you around, Cronus.”

He leaves you slanted against your car, dizzy and breathless, with damp underwear and the dumbest smile you’ve ever worn.

**Author's Note:**

> ha dumb ampora is lame
> 
> idk how i feel about this gomen
> 
> i used the prompt "You came by my hot chocolate shop three times a day and flirted with me."


End file.
